


you're my tin soldier, dear

by scopacopia



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Abused Lance (Voltron), Bisexual Lance (Voltron), Bottom Lance (Voltron), Gay Keith (Voltron), Hurt Lance (Voltron), Insecure Lance (Voltron), Keith is a metal worker, Keith is an artist!, Lance (Voltron) Angst, Lance (Voltron) Whump, Lance (Voltron)-centric, Lance is rich, Lance paints, Lotor cheats on Lance with Axca, M/M, Minor Lance/Lotor (Voltron), Not all angst, Possessive Behavior, Possessive Keith (Voltron), Protective Keith (Voltron), Top Keith (Voltron), a very fluffy story!, motels and cigarettes vibe
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-12
Updated: 2019-02-26
Packaged: 2019-07-11 12:30:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 7
Words: 20,522
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15972359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scopacopia/pseuds/scopacopia
Summary: Lance marries into the prosperous Galra Financial to save his family from devastation, and after almost six years of enduring Lotor's heavy hand and having to use way too much concealer, he packs his wedding diamonds and takes off.After his ride breaks down Lance runs into a blessing and a curse in the woods, a steely eyed man named Keith. Said man owes Lance a favor, but soon finds out that Lance is doing more to help him that he ever could in return. Together, they're on the run from an angry executive and his generals, leaving a trail of fire and bullets in their wake. A love story, from one turbulent tide to the hurricane that whirls in his sky.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! This is going to be a work of my own division, smut is implied in the classiest way possible. Mentions of sexual violence and domestic abuse, as well as past family death. They're in southern California, and the scenery is greatly inspired by the movie French Kiss! Go watch it, I'm gay for Meg Ryan.

Lance looked both ways before slamming the door behind him. Hefting his bag and heading down the empty hallway, it was only a matter of time until he had finally snapped, the events playing out as they did. He only hoped nobody saw him trying to discreetly exit the house, everything of value he could find in his hands. 

After what had been happening for months, this was just the result. His marriage diamonds sewn into the hems of his clothes, Lance made his way out of the seaside Villa, with a view of the California beach that stretched for miles on end. Outside the master suite window was his husband’s golf course, his swimming pool, tennis courts.. All belonging to the Galran Financial Empire. And though his mama was no longer there to protect him, he could still hear her words ringing in his ears, written all over his determined face. Mama always told him to “Stand up for yourself, Mijo-” And maybe, after seventeen years, those words had finally gotten through his thick skull. The bruises on his brow bone and bloody lip were more than enough to reveal this, more than enough reason for him to leave.

“Lotor can get a real maid,” He grumbled, eyebrow twitching as he struggled to fit the key into the cart’s ignition. “He won’t need me to pour his goddamn wine for his goddamn guests then, huh?” Lance shoved the key in, in a fit of rage. “..Fucker.” Climbing into the driver’s seat, it took him a moment to figure out how to set the automobile into gear, but once Lance had a hang of it he was off, like a speed demon in the night. 

Lance had been driving for what seemed like hours when that shiny red golf cart finally ran out of gas, sputtering to stop on the dusty interstate road. He groaned, rummaging around in his bag for his cell phone. The GPS pinged once, twice, then went dark. “What the hell?” he tapped the screen, but no new results showed. Getting out of the cart and dragging it to the side of the road, he shouldered his duffle, steeled his nerves, and disappeared into the thick of the woods.

Scrapes along his arms and exhaustion in every breath he took, it wasn’t until he heard the solid thump of wood falling to the forest floor that he finally stopped. Adrenaline racing through his brain, he began to step carefully, avoiding twigs and leaves, hoping he wouldn't be heard. Then the dark figure was in sight, broad shouldered and slim waisted wearing a hefty jacket (appropriately dressed for this weather, unlike Lance), and had longish, silky hair the color of a raven’s wing.. He was bending over to pick up his lumber, and Lance didn’t recognise the figure until he turned around, an industrial flashlight suddenly shining in his eyes.He gasped,and stumbled back like an animal in the night, the Cuban boy put up his arms hurriedly to shield his eyes from the glare.

“Lance?” The figure said in exasperation, lowering the flashlight and as he approached.. The person in question continued to back up until his back was against the rough bark of a large tree, and he cursed his luck. That’s when Lance looked up, and his eyes grew round..

“Keith?!”

Guess Lance was right to curse his luck after all.

~

The next thing he knew he was sitting in a small trailer, rickety in nature but seemingly filled with wear, worn with love.

And this concept of ‘a house is a home’ brought back overwhelming amounts of nostalgia, taking him back to the rented little orange house on Rice street, back in his hometown.

But he was snapped out of his fantasy at the cup of coffee, (Black), that was set in front of him, and the hardened face staring at him intently from across the table. “What are you doing out here? And why are you alone?” Seemed like Keith was just one to cut to the chase.  
“Whoa- oh ho, Keith. No time for pleasantries, huh?” He chuckled nervously, clutching the hot mug close to his chest in attempt to chase away the frost from outside. But his eyes were on the dark liquid, the bitter steam that arose from it and cleared his nose. 

“Lance.” Keith said sternly.

And that’s When Lance remembered that maybe he and Keith weren’t on the best of terms, and maybe he had been the one to pick the fight in the first place. “Yeah, yeah Mr. Mullet. I’m not going to explain myself to you.” He looked up cooly, shrugging his blanket tighter around himself before continuing on. “I’m just out on a little uh.. Getaway.” He swallowed thickly. His Mama always said he was never any good at lying.

But by some sort of miracle, Keith seemed to believe his half-assed explanation. 

“Sure, if you say so.” Keith made his way back to the small kitchenette and made himself another mug of the same strong, drugstore stuff, having a seat across from Lance in the little trailer booth. “Seems like kind of a stupid place to go on vacation, though.” 

Lance scoffed, having a sip of the coffee and grimacing, then reluctantly putting down the source of warmth. “Don’t judge my decisions, Kogane. I could vacation in a landfill and it would still be better than seeing the inside of your ratty trailer.” The boy thought for a moment, suddenly regretting his hostile retort. “I mean I..” He swallowed anxiously, face flaring red at what he was about to ask. “Could I crash here? Just for tonight? I can’t go ba-” ...Lance rambled, stopping short at what he was about to say. “It’ll be one night, and I’ll be out by morning. Promise.”

Keith blinked in surprise. Lance had gone from snarky, arrogant and annoying to pleading in less than a minute. Pleading? “Lance, Why would you want to stay with me? Go book yourself a night at the Ritz Carlton, you have the money.” He sat back in his chair, crossing his arms and looking at the other boy. “Because..” Lance looked down at the imitation wood of Keith’s worn little table. He smoothed his fingers over the edge of it, jagged and slightly sticky. Then he looked around the small trailer, trying to think of an answer that wouldn’t make him look like a complete idiot.. But time was running out. And his answer wasn't much good as it was.

“...Aesthetic? Laziness? To experience the hardships of the lower class?” Lance mused, tapping his chin mockingly. His reflex was always hostility, especially in the face of an unknown adversity, like.. Gasp! An attractive man?

Keith glared at him, crossing his arms and waiting for the real answer, yet something told him he wouldn’t get one. Not yet, at least. The only thing pushing him to accept Lance’s plea was the curiosity that tugged at him from the pit of his practically empty stomach.

“Fine. But you sleep on the couch, asshat.”

“Wonderful.” Lance’s face twisted up into something nasty, like he was allergic to the words stuck in his throat. “...Thank you.”

 

Later that night the silence was thick enough to cut with a knife, Lance brushing his teeth at the small basin sink and Keith using the outdoor loo as they both got ready for bed.

It was kind of torturous, for both of the scowling boys creeping around each other, each in turn hoping the other didn’t notice who they were obviously avoiding.

Lance hoped, he prayed to god that Keith wasn’t that curious type, the kind that asked too many questions. Fortunately he was right. The only type that Keith was was the creepy one, complete with odd side looks and strange staring. It was alright though, Lance thought. In and out in one night.

This wasn’t the case. As he had just finished washing his face, ready for bed, Lance quickly reached out and switched off the lights. Down the drain went all his coffee colored concealer, and the arrogant, prideful boy wasn’t one to walk around with his secrets pinned to his shirt.

“Hey! I was using that!” Keith called out from the dark, just as Lance manages to collapse onto the bed with a sigh. He’s exhausted and sleeping on what was probably a mangy flea-ridden sofa, and way, miles out of his comfort zone.

“It’ll save you on your light bill anyways, go to bed.” Lance grumbled, tucking his arms behind his head and just beginning to relax when he was alarmed to find that red light through his eyelids. His eyes flying open to see a pair of navy ones staring down at him in shock. Keith looked down at him, face twisted up in a combination of confusion, horror and awe. What was he looking at?

The littering of purpling bruises scattered on the side of his face, his busted lip, the yellowing contusion just under his eye. It was hard to miss, glistening in the way injuries do on Lance’s dusky skin. That’s what the concealer had been for, what he spent so much care not to reveal. It was humiliating for Lance, only well adjusted to the life he had previously lived. He would be happy to say this wasn’t a recent thing, Lotor hitting him, but despite how much his heart twisted and seared in his chest, the truth was there. The truth that he wasn’t, hadn’t- couldn’t have been strong enough to stand up to him. And this wasn’t new, but still every bit as surprising, that a man of the headstrong, stubborn nature as Lance was could be pushed around by a lover. A partner! His mama had always said, she’s told him, “Lance, Lance, stand up, push up, get up- do not let those beneath you make you think they are not. Do not let a catfish fool you, mijo-” Yet here he was- under the scrutinizing gaze of some no-name lumber jack, no mode of transportation and no phone.

Oh, Mama had raised a fool. A fool! Lance thought to himself as he sat next to Keith on the grimy couch, grimacing as he dabbed cold, (probably expired) antiseptic onto his cuts.

“Lance.” A voice came through the hazy fog that surrounded his mind, his intrusive thoughts. “Lance!”

“Yes! Yes, Sheesh, what’re you yellin’ my name for?”

“I asked you to tell me what happened.”

Lance paused, eyes casting to the floor. “I..” He muttered, his head suddenly feeling heavy on his shoulders. 

“Why should I tell you?”

“Because I’m cleaning up your fucking face, Lance. Because you’re crashing at my place. Because you begged me to. Should I go on?”

Fuck. he’s right. “..No.”

“Then tell me. Or so help me god I’m throwing your manicured ass out onto my lawn.”

“You already know, asshole!” Lance choked out, fighting to keep his eyes dry. The floor seemingly extremely interesting at the moment, and Lance was finding this conversation more and more difficult to have.

Lance slapped Keith's hand away and stood up abruptly, barely finding it within himself to glance down in the other’s direction before storming out the door of the RV trailer. 

Outside the night air felt cool on his skin, cicadas buzzing loud enough to wake the dead. But the white noise in his head buzzed louder than ever, his side throbbing where there was a dark purple bruise, spanning across his ribs that Keith had not the pleasure to see yet.

How could he have been so weak? To let himself get pushed around this way. To let Lotor do as he pleased to his body, and time he wanted to do so. 

Yet out here in the midst of what may be a mid life crisis for him, (Strange, for a twenty- three year old,) The night air felt nice. Like the moon, the stars were looking down on him with twinkling smiles and the wind caressed him with every breeze, as if to whisper “Lance, it’ll be alright.” Even out here, even nursing bruises that would make a heavyweight boxer proud, Lance managed to enjoy it- to find the beauty in a night that so obviously was the beginning of the rest of his life.

A new Lance, free of the shackles and chains of a damaged home, one he so tried to make something that warmed his heart like a well lit hearth. Yet all that came from his marriage with Lotor was ashes, cold and black and staining as if the fire from which they came was long gone. Now he was on his own like never before, leaving his family behind on Long Beach and his husband behind in Beverly Hills.For lance was now in no- man’s- land, the unknown nowhere of which Keith lived.

Keith.

He glanced back inside, guilt clawing at his throat as he thought of the crackling matchstick of a man that awaited him inside the trailer. Maybe all he really needed was a moment to collect his thoughts, to head his tears off at the pass and but on his big girl panties.

‘Easy for you to say, puta.”  
“Big girl panties? You wish. Mama always said you were a soft one, always will be.”  
“You're nothing but the spoiled remains of a deal gone bad, mijo.”  
“Lotor’s used up goods, an empty bottle of that Rośe wine. He drank you dry, mi hermanito.”

And like a tsunami they were back, the voices of his family. His sisters, mother, and older brother in turn. Maybe leaving those memories buried in Long Beach wasn't an option, because no matter how many years ago it was and how much he tries to surround himself in other things, flurries of activities, they won't go away. Lance would plan extravagant parties, he would remodel room after room and go on lavish cruises around the caribbean. Anything as a distraction, an escape from the home life he’d tied himself into.

Lance must have spent years convincing himself that he had no other options.

Yet just two days ago, something in him snapped. It changed.

Maybe it was seeing his husband in his office, with one of his.. Generals. Generals, he called them, those girls.

But Lance didn’t think that’s all they were, especially not after what he saw that night.

Acxa was giggling. That’s what woke him up in the first place, he thinks. Acxa with that damn Rośe wine and a little black dress. Lance was unhappy. He was beaten he was used, but at least Lotor was his.

Behind him, Keith cleared his throat. The trailer door was cracked open, and the soft yellow light from inside lit up the lawn. The shadows were long, tonight, and the crickets accompanied the cicadas in their symphony. But as the artificial light chased away the fairy light of the moon, so Keith’s worried expression chased away those biting thoughts that nipped like piranhas at his heart in the dark.

“You uh.. You coming back inside?”

Lance stood with his arms crossed over his chest, yes still downcast. He must have been out here for awhile if Keith’s stubborn ass had come out to get him.

“If you stop asking me questions you know the answer to, just to hear the words from my mouth.” 

Keith grumbled in response, rolling his eyes and holding the door over invitingly. “Just get in here, okay? I can see you shivering through that think silk thing you call a shirt.” 

There was something almost affectionate in Keith’s tone, a slightly gravelly tenor that always sounded like he’d been yelling too much. Maybe he was, Lance didn’t know.

Didn’t know anything about him, really. Except for the fact that he had stormy grey eyes that looked like hurricane clouds, and warm, dry hands littered with years of calluses. They were working hands for a working man.

And Lance knew Keith worked harder than anyone. When the two had met, in the year just after he and Lotor had tied the knot, Lance had taken it upon himself to remodel the bathroom. The best metal guy in town was a mister Kogane,said the contractor, and that’s exactly who Lance sought out and hired. 

What he didn’t know about Mr. K. Kogane, of course, was how ornery he was, how stubborn and non compliant and irritable he was. Or well.. the fact that he was beautiful. 

Stunningly so. Frustrating for being such an intolerable man. 

Lotor almost threw a fit, in fact. When he learned that this was the guy taking up all of his husband’s time, all day every- well almost every day.

The bathroom ended up beautifully, with dark, sleek metals, an ornate bathtub and windows that filtered the light just the way Lance wanted. That’s when he was happy. Sending money back to his family, married to the perfect man with the perfect house on the perfect street in his perfect life.

Of course Lance never saw Keith after that, and now here he was- standing outside in the long wild grass and getting his suede shoes wet, his dark hair whipping around his face as the gentle breeze grew restless at his indecision and picked up. 

Reluctantly, Lance turned around and went back into the trailer.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Getting into the nitty- gritties!! stay tuned, Lance- centric babies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> will 100% be more than 3 chapters, hopefully i'll be able to cap it at 4. We'll see.

Despite the cool breeze outside in the southern California night, the inside of that rickety trailer was stifling. It was hot, incredibly humid, so much so as Lance’s perfectly quaffed bangs stuck to his forehead with sweat.

“Hey, Mr. Broody. Couldn’t get some fucking AC?”

“Shut up and sleep, Lance.”

It was almost one in the morning, and Keith's scratchy couch and his silk blouse weren't going well together, but at least he wasn't in that large, lonely bed with Lotor one more night. 

But suddenly the silence was snatched out from under their fingers, the revving sound of engines echoing menacingly in the night. It sounded like trucks, big trucks and voices. By now Lance was sitting up, blankets pooled around his waist and a confused look on his face.

Before he could utter a single word Keith was at his side, calloused palm over his mouth and a sharp look in his stormy grey eyes. 

“Quiet. It’s time to go.”

Lance scrambled to get Keith's hand off his mouth, sputtering as to hide the light blush on his cheeks. “Wh- Keith? Go? Who’s here? Do you know them?”

“No, Sharpshooter, but you do.”

Keith hauled Lance to his feet and shoved the duffle bag into his hands, gathering up quickly his leather jacket, knife, keys and a go- bag of his own.  
Keith and Lance hurried out the back as quiet as mice, Lance doing everything he could to follow Keith’s experienced lead.

The voices out front were growing louder and more agitated, some of which Lance recognized. 

Lotor.

“I know he’s here, Zethrid. I know this is where he would go.”

Zethrid growled in response, and the cocking of a shotgun could be heard soon after. Suddenly a dainty voice spoke up.

“You still use that fossil, Zethrid? We aren't trying to kill the poor guy.” Ezor hefted her pistol with an innocent smile.

Even from behind the trailer, Lance could see it. Beads of sweat traveled down his neck and into his shirt, ocean eyes darting around in the dark. He was scared out of his wits, and even Keith could sense it.

“C’mon, quickly.” Keith whispered, taking him by the wrist and dragging him across the damp grass and into the woods, where a gleaming red Harley waited. 

“Get on, Lance. And grab onto my waist.” Keith whispered in Lance’s ear, shivers running down his spine. He could hear the voices approaching, flashlights flashing through the woods around them and footsteps stomping in the grass. 

When Lance glanced back at Keith he was already on the bike, looking up at him intensely with those intoxicating eyes. 

“Now.”

And so he did, hop on the bike and wrap his near shaking arms around Keith’s waist. The last thing he heard was a rushed- “Hold on tight-!” before he was zooming through the woods, engine loud in his ears as a blur of brown and green filled his vision. He barely had time to think about what was transpiring as his hair whipped around his face, a muffled scream ripped from his throat as he buried his face into Keith’s shoulder, his soft hair and old leather jacket the only thing he wanted to focus on as the landscape changed from forest to a long expanse of highway unique to southern California. It was beautiful, the sun just now rising in the east and over an endless sea of golden wheat and corn. 

The air smelled of early morning dew and Keith’s cologne, and Lance would like to think this would be one of the best moments of his life if he didn't know Lotor and his generals were hot on his tail. Where Keith was taking him, he could only guess. Deeper into the middle of nowhere, that was for sure. The forest on one side of them, tall pines and carpeted floor zooming past and the occasional farmhouse or cottage on the other side interrupting the chain of field after field after field. But Lance’s core was starting to hurt, thighs shaking as they gripped the side of the rumbling machine that was taking them god knows where. 

-

Lance always wondered how he let himself get so far from the sea. From the crashing waves and salty smell that he knew better than the smell of his own mother’s cooking. The endless ocean that hurt his 7 year old brain just thinking about, or the sharks and jellyfish he saw at the pacific aquarium on his birthday every year. Lance was tied to the ocean like strings on the guitar that we would play for abuelita on Sunday afternoons. 

Lance had always been a slave to the tide, ever since he was a little boy, bouncing on his mother’s knee. 

“Mijo, The ocean belongs to you.” He mother had whispered in his ear as he giggled and licked cake batter off his fingers. “With those blue blue eyes of yours, you’re going to be such a heart breaker, my Lance!”

Of course nobody out of his three brothers, two sisters, mother, father, abuela and abuelo, and his countless cousins could explain how, how Lance was ever the only one with those shimmering blue eyes. 

When he was little they were light, shimmering like the sky. But those swirling irises hadn't been bright for awhile now, not with all they’ve seen.

Not with all they’d let get away with. Those nights of pretending he didn't know what his own husband was doing behind closed doors. Those nights he’d closed them, shut his eyes tight and pleaded for his lover to stop as..

As his skin turned blue and purple with every slap, thrown into the dresser or bed frame.

Lance’s eyes grew as dark, sparkling and cosmic as the stars in the sky, the bruises on his skin.

-

And then there was Keith. Keith was confrontation, he was an ever- burning matchstick and a smoldering cigarette butt at the same time. Keith was life, he was the destruction that allowed new forests to grow from the ashes of California redwoods, the kind of storm that left relief in the form of rainbows in its wake.

And just as Lance was the river stream that sparkled at the surface, but had waters flowing deep, dark and still at its bed, Keith was a hurricane, powerful as a thousand armies and even more enveloping at its core. 

-

Just as Lance was deciding that fuck, they must have been riding for miles now, Keith took a sharp turn (Lance yelping in response, thanking the quiet unmanly thing was covered by the wind) And pulled into a dingy looking motel. He hit the brake and swiveled into a parking space, leaving his passenger wide eyes and breathless. (As if being flush against Keith for that whole ride here wasn't enough in itself to make him breathless.)

Said daredevil pulled off the bike and ran a hand through his long hair, shaking out his cramped muscles while Lance still sat dumbstruck, his curly brown hair windswept from his face.

Keith held out a hand to him with a small smile and Lance took it, hopping off the bike and looking around. What he didn’t see, however, was the light flush that dusted Keith’s cheeks as well. 

“You did well.” 

“Of course I did. What were you expecting from me, Hotshot?”

Keith chuckled, for it was clear Lance was nothing less than shaken by the foreign experience. He reached out and took the other man’s hand, tugging Lance through the parking lot in the blazing California valley heat. The motel was old, with a flickering red sign and two rows of rooms along the first and second floor. The front office was humid, damp and deserted, but luckily Lance was to wait outside. A few minutes later Keith came out with a key in his hand and a yellowing brochure, reading “The Miraculous Miracles of Morro Bay.”

“Keith! Keith, wait.” Lance called out, as the former had continued on ahead, sure he was being followed. 

He spun around to face Lance. “..Yes?” He began, voice a low hiss, but when he saw the Look on Lance’s face he hushed immediately. “Yes, Lance?” Keith said softly, coming up to his obviously distressed traveling partner. Lance was a theatre mask of joy and mischief, and when he showed this other side of him, it was.. Alarming. Keith was worried.

Lance bit his lip, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes that brought Keith all the more closer.

The blue eyed boy swiped at his eyes angrily and sniffled. “Hell, I d-don’t even know why I’m crying..” he mumbled just loud enough for Keith to hear, voice quivering. 

“I do.” Keith hummed, a warm hand on his shoulders. “C’mon. Let’s get out of eyesight, yeah? I’m sure room 142 is very comfortable.” 

That, at least, drew a smile from Lance’s lips. 

The bed squeaked as Keith sat on it, patting the space next to him knowingly. “You’re overwhelmed, Lance. Understandably.” 

“No, N-No, I just..” he protested, plopping down on the dusty mattress and slumping down onto his knees. “I’m so scared, Keith.” He choked out, blue eyes searching as they locked with Keith’s stony grey ones. “And.. And confused. Who am I after this?”

Lance buried his face in his hands and let his duffel bag fall to the floor. The pain was evident from his posture, and even someone as emotions inept as Keith could empathize with Lance right now.

This one one of the few times in their awkward mutual respect and admiration/ hate relationship (or that’s as much as Lance would possibly admit,) when Keith’s concern was open. He pulled Lance gently into his chest, enveloping him in an almost hesitant embrace.

The hug smelled like smoke and leather, and Keith’s chest was warm and his heart beat fast. Lance startled at first, looking up although he knew Keith couldn’t see him. But his exhaustion overtook him and he crumpled into open arms, bloodshot eyes finally falling shut. 

And with that, sweaty from travel and shoes still on, Lance got the first good night’s sleep he’d had in months. 

-

“You’re strong.”

That’s how Keith responded, refusing to move long after Lance had fallen asleep despite the cramps in his arms and shoulder. A few moments later he gently lay Lance on the pillow above the comforter, hauling his feet up after him pulling off his shoes. Every few second Keith would glance up and make sure Lance never stirred, even when he tucked the covers in around him and crawled up over the comforter himself. 

He lay facing the sleeping boy, watching his eyelashes flutter across his tear streaked cheeks in a peaceful expression he didn’t think he’d ever seen on Lance. He tried to ignore the bruises littering his temple, or the cut on Lance’s lip. They only made him angry.

And before he knew it, Keith was asleep as well, Lance’s name soft on his lips.

-

In the morning Lance awoke to the sound of a sizzling pan, then a frustrated hiss as something obviously went wrong. He sat up slowly, leaving back on one hand and rubbing his eyes. It took him a moment to regain his surroundings, from the scratchy comforter keeping him warm to the disgruntled man keeping him company.

“Keith? What’re you doing?” Lance blinked in confusion in the direction of the minimalist kitchenette that occupied the corner of their room. He swung his legs out of bed, surprised to find his shoes gone and placed neatly next to his duffel bag. 

Guess exhaustion really had gotten the better of him, Lance didn't even remember getting under the comforter, much less taking off his soiled shoes.. He padded over the slightly damp, old carpeting to Keith, putting a hand on his arm and looking over his shoulder. 

“Eggs?”

Lance snorted at the response, Keith’s tone saying everything he needed to know. 

“Step aside, Mr. Mullet. I got this.”

And that Lance did. Tossing the burnt batch as soon as possible and cracking three new eggs, he wondered to himself where Keith had even gotten these. Suddenly there was also bread, white Wonder Bread to be exact, and Lance hatched an idea. He glanced back at a sullen Keith, still rubbing his hand where he’d grazed the hot pan earlier. “You wanna do me a solid, Hotshot? It'll be tasty rewards later.”

Keith perked up immediately and nodded.

“Good.” Lance beamed, pointing to the Wonder Bread. “Take out two slices and cut holes out of the middle.”

“..Holes? Like circles through the middle of the bread?”

“Yeah. Just trust me, Kogane. I make a mean One-Eyed- Jack.”

And so Keith got to it, opening the bread and pulling his army knife from his pocket. He didn’t dare question Lance’s cooking logic, not with that big welt forming on his hand to remind him of the logic he lacked. When he was done he put them on the counter next to the skillet, silent.

“Perfect. Thank you.” Lance said, picking up a piece and flopping it down in the middle of the pan, the butter sizzling around it. Then he pulled a brown egg and cracked it in the middle, the white spreading over the bread and yolk resting in the middle. After a few moments of that he lifted the pan from the stove and rocked it back and forth, flicking the handle up and watching as their breakfast flipped in the air and landed on it’s uncooked side. Keith watched with an enamored gasp, leaning in closer and watching Lance. It was starting to smell really good..

“See? What did I tell you? Now bring those grubby hands of yours over here- Oh! Or better yet,” Lance sang, a satisfied smile gracing his lips. “Wash them. Shoo.”

Keith grumbled and made his way over to the sink, scrubbing them and grabbing a paper towel. One to dry his hands, and one for his breakfast. 

“Here.” Lance slid the piece of egg- toast onto Keith’s napkin, then turned back and started working on his own. “Don’t get yolk everywhere, now.”

Keith nodded like a giddy child and paused, finding himself dangerously close to planting a kiss on Lance’s cheek. It felt so natural, and with those pretty hips of his, swinging back and forth as if listening to some invisible song.. Well, it wasn't hard.

Keith made his way over to the chair next to the drawn blinds. He peeked through them and scanned the parking lot, his eyes landing on a news feed running from a TV inside the main office. He couldn't hear what it said, but immediately knew what the news anchor was so worked up about.

“A forest fire, Lance, from.. They burned my trailer to the ground.”

Lance stopped, his hands falling away from his browning breakfast. “Wh..What?” He said meekly, turning to see Keith’s head looking through the window, a look of horror coming over his features. Keith stalked over in his direction and stood in front of Lance with an unreadable expression, subconsciously using his measly two inches of height to his advantage. Lance spoke again. “Lotor, he..” Lance choked, staring blankly through Keith’s chest and into nothing.

Then suddenly Lance felt warm arms around his body, squeezing him close as if the other man could sense the horror that had spread over him. 

“I wasn’t leaving anything behind in that trailer, Lance. Just material possessions.”

Lance let out a quiet sob, eyes watering as he let himself melt yet again into Keith’s chest. Lance seemed to be tearing apart at the seams.

“But I.. I’m sure Lotor has frozen my assets by now, and we have n-no money, whatever you’re using to pay for this room is sure to run out, They’ll find us-!” Lance rambled on. “Why are you helping me? Huh? I’ve got nothing now. I can’t pay you back, I owe you this.. This debt-!” But Keith stayed quiet and continued to hold him, A steadfast rock against his crashing waves.

“You owe me nothing. Lance, just material possessions.”

“I’m sure this is a scandal Lotor is willing to do anything to avoid! If he can’t have me, if he can’t..” Lance looked up, blue eyes swimming with sorrow. They left Keith’s mouth dry.

“If Lotor can’t have me, no one will.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a bit of backstory in this chapter! i hope yall like it, also check out my instagram! @scopacopia, i do some rad art.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay so im getting really into this, its becoming my baby.. also if you like it show your support! I 100% will answer your comments.

Lance’s father never wanted him to dance. When he starred in the nutcracker in the third grade, Lance’s father didn’t come. Afterwards he had been accepted into his brother’s, sister’s, aunt’s, and cousin’s arms and showered with flowers. Laughter had filled the hallway just outside the auditorium, But his mother was just outside the door on the phone, with a father who didn’t support his own son’s passion.

Lance was damn good at it, too. Damn good. 

He flew through auditions and rose to the top of his dance class like oil over water. At age thirteen Lance was in a league of his own, Starring in show after show after show- Until he was three months away from his seventeenth birthday. Barely seventeen- and Lance decided he had to go to a college party. The kind with solo cups, cigarette butts and stupid frat boys running around in face paint and making bad decisions. Veronica went to Altea University- a prestigious school right out of town.

And at that sweaty, boozy party Lance met a college sophomore, a loaded one at that, who was very interested in him. Even in his hiccuping, giddy, wasted state.

By his seventeenth birthday Lance had his whole life laid out before him. 

His home, his husband, his job.

Or lack thereof, rather. 

-

Lance felt the heavy weight of exhaustion on his chest, especially as he looked back at himself from the grimy motel bathroom. Water dripped from his hair, and the bags under his eyes were looking less like puffy and more hollow. He wrapped the towel around his chest and stepped out of the bathroom, making his way over to his bag and sparring an ashamed glance in Keith’s direction. Keith didn't look up from what he was doing, jamming down buttons on the ancient landline next to their bed. 

Their bed, The bed they shared.

Lance swallowed down a lump in his throat and pulled out a pair of boxers and a large t shirt from his bag. He struggled to keep the scanty towel up over his chest as it was, and rummaging around in his bag wasn’t making it any easier.

“Hey, Lance..”

“Hm?”

“Lance. What else aren’t you telling me..?”

Shirt just slipping over his head, Lance froze at that dark tone. He could feel Keith coming up behind him, padding softly on the slightly sticky green motel carpet, one hand tilting Lance’s gaze up to meet his and the other hovering at Lance’s side awkwardly, like he didn’t want to push any boundaries. Lance couldn’t tear his eyes away no matter how hard he tried, brows creasing in concern.

“Wh..What do you mean?” He gasped, unable to ignore the hot electricity that was tearing him apart. Keith’s presence was overwhelming. 

“Show me what he did to you. All of it.”

Lance felt the warmth that filled his chest grow cold at the thought of that horrible man.

Lotor. Lance had fallen in love with Lotor, for love is blind.

Blinded by paid debts, by sweet nothings and fine wine. 

Lance frowned, looking anywhere but Keith’s face like a deer in headlights. He compliantly tugged up the hem of his worn Altea U t-shirt, over his boxers and exposing his torso. 

There lay a large purpling bruise on his side and a few more littering just under his collarbone. Lance hadn’t even turned around yet.

“There are s-some on my thighs, too.”

Lance whispered, his head filled with cotton, his own voice sounding muffled to his own ears. He hope Keith had not heard, no matter how much he wanted to know.

Keith looked at him with unreadable eyes. But inside he was irate, like lava was churning in his stomach. He felt like a caged animal, The only thing in his vision the color red. Never having felt this way for anyone before, Keith was.. Concerned. Unsettled, Keith was a lone wolf, he always had been. What is it about those ocean eyes that turned his world upside down? And what on Earth had Lance’s husband done to him? He’d met the guy a few times while remodeling the couple’s bathroom.. But Keith could only imagine what went on behind closed doors. He didn’t want to, especially with that distressed, kicked- puppy look on Lance’s face already. Keith forced himself to take a deep breath, cupping Lance’s chin again. 

“Don’t be ashamed, I just want to protect you. Turn around please.”

Lance felt some spark of doubt, uncertainty inside him fizzle and go out at that, and he nodded, shoulders relaxing. He turned around quietly, bunching the shirt up under his chin so Keith could see what he was asking for. 

Not that Lance wasn’t already hyper aware of where he was standing, afternoon sun streaming in through the window onto the dirty carpet, onto Lance and Keith. Standing in his underwear as Keith looked upon his heaving chest with that gaze that turned him to Lance pudding, hands inches away from sparking up his cold skin.

“I just want to protect you.”

That’s what Keith had said. It registered in his mind a bit too late, and his face grew hot. 

Protection... Lotor protected him.

The little voice in his head chimed, reminding him of a happier time of formal parties under fairy lights, the white suit he wore to his wedding and the fushia rose in his lapel.

Lance couldn’t help but smile. He had such a bright future, the whole world as his plaything, Lotor’s money in one hand and his endless free time in the other.

The sound of shattered glass, a flower vase broken on their expensive persian rug. Dejected roses lay out of water, withering and seeping into the ground beneath them. Water soiled the rug. But Lance was a grown up. He was strong. Right then, locked in a vice of his love over his likely, Lance felt his whole body shake.

It was in that moment, looking up into Lotor’s wild eyes, laying on the ground with broken glass already in his forearm, that he realised that nothing came especially to him, without a price. Lotor’s kindness, affection to someone like Lance, a flirty, lanky, by no means perfect boy from Cuba,and his heavy wallet came with his wrath, the rage that made him turn his head so hard he got whiplash. 

There was a time, mid January, he thought.. for it was cold, (Lance remembered the hearth) not even the maids would talk to him. Lance didn’t get letters, nor calls, and his text messages were left unanswered every time. How could his friends, his own family have cut him off? Nevertheless, Lance had money sent to a little bank in Long Beach every month.

Lance had cried. He had, for fragile bluebirds are social creatures, and Lance had been abandoned. 

Lotor would lay with him,knowing full well every night that he was the reason for Lance’s tears, comfort him as the chilly California night was silent outside. Lance should’ve taken it as a sign that not even the crickets would sing for him. Only villains, and fools believe love walked hand in hand with isolation.

Lance was the latter. 

Ignorance was bliss, as the timeline of Lance’s adult life was lined with it, though the silver was tarnished. Not even the many gifts Lotor could, and have given him could fill the whole carved in his heart by his own husband’s ragged yelling, Lotor’s drunken fists, false accusations and the silence that accompanied it as if all the staff in that great, big house had vanished into thin air. On those frenzied nights, Lance was truly alone with Lotor. He was alone with only himself.

“Lance..”

Keith’s warm, dry hands dragged him from the snowstorm he was trapped in.

“Lance..!”

He startled, letting his shirt drop quickly and backing against the wall, eyes wide.

Keith stayed back, hands out in front of him, like he was trying to approach a spooked animal. In a way, he was. Lance sniffled.

“..Where did you go just then?” Keith said in the softest voice, his face looking less it’s sharp self and more like something gentle Lance wanted to drown in. 

“I.. I’m right here.”

Keith frowned in concern, his hands falling to his sides. “Can I touch you?” It was a request, certainly something Lance never got from Lotor. “Just a hug, Lance.”

Lance looked back at Keith from his spot against the wall for a moment before nodding jerkily. “Yeah.. Okay.”

While Lance had everything he could have ever wanted in that great big house, he was missing things he forgot he even needed. Or other things, which he never even knew he needed. Keith’s hugs were one of those things.

Keith’s arms encircled him, like two fortress walls keeping both enemies of men and of nature alike at bay. They were trunks of a massive tree, or supporting beams, keeping Lance upright in their embrace. But they also shook, hugged Lance a bit too tight and he looked up. Keith’s face was contorted into what might have been a grimace, might be Keith holding back tears, or maybe holding back rage. 

But this anger wasn’t one that made Lance’s hair stand on end. It was one that made the creases of fear in his forehead smooth out, one who’s fire radiates warmth, and not the frostbite cold that even Lotor’s fancy golden hearth couldn’t dismiss.

“Keith..?”

Lance’s voice was muffled, sounding small. He felt like this wasn’t something he was supposed to see.

“Yeah, Lance?”

Keith moved one hand up to the back of Lance’s head, pushing his face softly into the crook of his own neck and tucking his face into Lance’s. Keith’s hair tickled his face, and they were silent after that.

-

Lance realized, after almost two days straight, he had finally caught his breath. Laying on the big motel bed in his clean pyjamas, hugging a pillow close to his chest and letting the late afternoon sun filter onto his face, Lance waited for Keith to return. 

All this hullabaloo with the crying, and the hugging, and all these damn emotions..

Well, it wore everyone out.

Keith was due back to their humble, although temporary, abode any minute now. It had been deemed too dangerous for Lance to be on grocery duty, with a psycho ex and his gun-toting bitches out on the loose. Luckily, Lance’s favorite Rom- Com was on TV.

“Charlie, the sauces have to be incroyable to cover up the horse meat!”

French Kiss. With Meg Ryan. Lance snickered, covering his mouth with his hand as he watched cable TV.

But as the minutes ticked by, Lance got increasingly nervous. He glanced at the clock over and over, biting his lip until he couldn’t stand it anymore. What was taking so long? What was taking so long?

Throwing on day clothes and tucking his things in his pocket, The blue eyed boy grabbed the room key and shut the door behind him. The harsh, scorching California sun was blinding, as late in the afternoon as it was, but Lance was determined nevertheless. What was so hard about getting a few apples and some water from the grocery store?

Just as he was making his way across the parking lot to where Keith’s motorbike was parked, the thought dawned on him. If the bike was here, why wasn’t Keith? 

Suddenly he was pushed against the wall, a hand over his mouth before he could scream. A dark shape loomed over him, and Lance looked around with wide eyes, tugging harshly on his attacker’s wrist. 

“You shouldn’t be so out in the open, Lance.” A familiar voice hissed, then it hit him- the mahogany smell, the soft black hair.

Keith released him with a huff, still keeping him pinned to the brick wall of the motel with one hand. His eyes were piercing, sharp with anger. Lance knew he should be scared, but underneath the scathing anger, was worry. He looked at the gravel in shame.

Lance was a fighter, he always had been. Bandaids had been his best friend since grade school.

Yet now, looking into the masked concern in Keith’s eyes, the struggle inside him died. Lance could say he felt guilty, even. 

“I’m sorry. I came to look for you.”

Keith’s expression faltered. Then, in a soft voice, he responded. 

“Why?”

“You were taking a long time. I was worried something...”

Hesitation gripped his throat like a choking hand. His heartbeat grew quick with adrenaline, and suddenly the space between Keith’s arm and the wall felt a lot smaller. 

But Keith was still gentle. He implored further, saying “Something..?”

Lance swallowed, the lump in his throat making him dizzy. “Something.. Something got you.” 

He continued on, gaze flickering up to Keith’s and he felt like he was drowning, despite the dry, dry heat that seemed to envelop him.

“And it would be my fault. I couldn’t bare to think that.”

Keith leaned against the wall facing Lance, who still faced forward, towards the parking lot. He let his head back against the cool brick in the shade. But a pale thumb lingered on his jawline, skirting the edge as Lance’s eyes fell shut.

He didn’t understand the moment they were having, only that Keith’s hot breath felt good against his cheek and that his big hands only brought a sense of comfort, holding him close yet at an arm's length away. 

“Then don’t. Let me do this for you, Lance.”

I would be a fool to let you out of my sight again, 

Is what Keith didn’t say, despite the thought hot on his tongue. 

The stared out at the landscape for a bit longer, both too aware of the thick nameless tension between them to try and identify it, much less cut through. Lance’s hands felt fidgety in his pockets, and it took a little bit longer than it should for Keith to pull his hands away.

Lance was surprised to feel disappointed when they left.

-

The next few weeks went by faster than Lance could blink. Soon they were camping, because Keith had a storage unit in Grover city where he had an old BMW grand tourer from 1976, a faded periwinkle color and- “Great for sleeping in!” (To that, Lance made a face. It would have to do.) 

After a well needed cleaning and clearing, Lance and Keith stashed their things in there and took off, leaving the Harley locked in the storage unit, and the old camping gear tied to the roof. Lance rolled down the windows and insisted on having sunflower seeds and beef jerky, because- 

“No road trip is complete without these essentials, Keith!’ 

To which Keith responded, 

“This is not a road trip, Lance.”

And by now they must have been halfway to Sacramento, spending every night on the roof of that old car with the stars in their sights and the desert air in their lungs. It was easy to fall in love.

-

“You know, these beans don’t taste any better even after, like, three weeks of eating them.”  
Lance mused, digging into his can with a bored expression and a plastic spork. 

“The point of eating them isn’t the taste, I promise.” Keith chuckled, chucking his can in the trash and getting up to stoke the fire. He made his way over to the car and began pulling out the sleeping bags, like they did every night, tonight’s spot in a wooded clearing of spruce trees and soft pine needle beds. Lance continued eating, the ghost of a smile on his face, until he spoke up softly. His voice was quiet, unsure.

“Why are we doing this? When will he stop?”

“He who?” Keith replied absentmindedly.

“You know who I’m talking about, Keith.”

“Oh..” Keith paused, and let his red sleeping bag fall to the floor and he made his way over to where Lance sat on his lawn chair, crouching beside it until he was Lance’s height.

One hand hovered above Lance’s knee, until finally settling onto the worn denim. (Lance’s fancy clothing had only lasted him about a week, after that they ripped out the expensive bits and went to a local Kmart. He found it torturous.) 

“I think I’d travel with you to the end of the Earth, if it kept you safe.” 

Keith swallowed, and took a leap towards the ledge. 

“-And if I could stay with you a minute longer.”

Between them it was silent. Lance was.. Oblivious, to say the least, and he stared into Keith’s reaching eyes. The were both searching for something… Though Lance couldn’t put his finger on what.

Before Lance could react Keith had turned away as if burned by Lance’s touch, and was halfway across the campsite in the blink of an eye. 

Lance let his eyes travel to the ground. He shuffled his feet in silence, still processing what he just heard. He didn’t have time to finish his thought, though, because Keith spoke up again.

He cleared his throat.

“I’m going to head into town for a bit. Just.. stay here. I’ll be back soon.”

Keith sounded.. Tired, and it broke Lance’s heart. They’d been on the road for a little more than a month, and Lance was starting to get really anxious. The guilt that had a hold on his heart squeezed every time he got a look at Keith’s tired face, the hurt behind his eyes. How long would Keith stay with him? Obviously Lance couldn’t read, because at this point any sane person would read all those signs that no, Keith taking care of him, hiding soft smiles (Not well) and lingering touches wasn’t just exceptionally good friendship.

“...Okay.” 

It wouldn’t be long now until Lance was on his own, he was so sure. His doubts, his insecurities that bit at him like piranhas in the amazon were relentless, and Lance’s water was rising. 

Conveniently he thought nothing of all those nights spent stargazing, or laughing and roasting dollar- store marshmallows over the fire as they camped in the middle of the wilderness. Lotor had been quiet since that first forest fire, of which after Lance and Keith had lied very very low.

Lance rose from his seat and headed over the the car, watching Keith disappear into the trees. A second too late it occurred to him. 

“Don’t you wanna take the car?”

But Keith was gone, and Lance was left with silence.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> very soft.. very very soft.. ALSO- song in this chapter is "The Way You Look Tonight" by Tony Bennett. recommended to listen to when reading.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> again.. love yall's comments. do it, i dare you

Keith wrung his hands nervously as he trudged through the soft pine needle bed, Lance’s little blue ipod nano hot in his pocket. As he approached the clearing that had been his own personal project for a few days now, Keith realized he finally might be ready to show it to Lance.

He pushed through the blanket curtain and stepped into the clearing, looking around at his work. The gentle light of the Christmas lights he strung around the surrounding trees cast a soft glow on the clearing, and soon the iPod in his hand would be in a cup, and the music would fill the space. 

Keith was, needless to say, nervous. He was nervous about what Lance would think, of even the pile of blankets he’d brought for them to lay on. To gaze at constellations, like they had been doing for weeks already. Keith liked to think that Lance belonged in the stars, the way the light of the moon would make his eyes sparkle like the tide that tugged the ocean. His laugh was brighter than the sun, and fairies would gather at the sound. Lance was a celestial body, and Keith had wondered how he’d ever thought Lance was human. 

He added the finishing touches and took a deep breath, shoving his hands in his pocket and making his way back to the campsite. About ten minutes in, he saw the light of their little fire illuminating the camp they’d kept for almost a week now, but it’s been a little over two weeks since Lance and Keith had last been into civilization.

When he passed through the trees he saw the camp looked kind of empty, so he came closer. Standing by the fire, Keith looked around the campsite, getting increasingly worried. That is, until he saw movement out of the corner of his eye.

“Lance..?”

He came over quietly, to a dark lump of blankets over by the side of the car. He suspected Lance to be under those blankets, if it wasn’t already obvious by the way the bundle seemed to be sniffling.

“This isn’t a very comfortable spot, Lance.” He chuckled, crouching next to the blankets and smiling softly. He could see a bit of curly chestnut hair peeking out from under it, anyways. 

“No, ‘mmh not here.”

Keith poked him lightly, earning a little muffled squeak from the blanket pile. 

“Well, when Lance comes back, please tell him I have something to show him.”

The bundle stilled. Keith could tell he’d gotten Lance’s attention. 

“Something to show him? What is it?” Lance mumbled skeptically, and Keith could practically see his narrowed blue eyes.

Keith smiled again, biting his lip. Sometimes he couldn’t take it, having Lance all to himself. Maybe it was fate, or maybe Keith was just really, really lucky. 

“He’ll just have to come and see.”

At that, Lance’s head emerged. His eyes were wide and a bit bloodshot, puffy and red even in the low lighting. The warmth of the fire cast his face in a soft light, smoothing out his features the way sleep did. Keith’s heart skipped a beat in his chest. He shouldn’t feel this way, heart swelling at the merest glance, even when Lance had been crying, yet here he was. Lance blinked, like he was waiting for something.. Right.

“C’mon. You’re welcome to bring those blankets.”

A hesitant smile tugged at Lance’s lips, the guarded look in his eyes easing away. In his enterprise to get that smile onto the other boy’s lips, it completely slipped Keith’s mind as to why Lance had been crying in the first place. 

In a gentler voice, every bone in his body itching to wrap Lance between his arms, Keith continued.

“I promise you’ll like it..”

Lance snorted softly, holding out his hand for Keith to help him up. “Okay. I’m trusting you just this once, Kogane.” He said jokingly, and rose to his feet.

Keith just smiled, he beamed, could barely breathe. Lance wrung out his heart and left it to dry, he felt parched, and the blanket wrapped boy standing in front of him was the only clean water for miles around.

“Good. Follow me, please..” Keith tangled his fingers in Lance’s warm brown ones, and checked behind him once before starting off. He lead a confused Lance out of the campsite, and into the woods. After almost five minutes of walking, Lance stopped, pulling his hand away. Keith spun around to face him.

“Dude, where are we going? You’re not taking into the woods to murder me, are you? Are we going to your bloody murder shed?” Lance accused, trying his hardest to keep a straight face, though a smile kept tugging on his dusky lips. 

‘You’re too pretty to kill.’

“No, of course not. If I wanted to kill you, I’d have already passed up many, many good opportunities.”

Lance smiled, shrugging and grabbing Keith’s hand back. “Fine. But if you made me get my shoes wet for the fifth time this week for nothing, you’ll be sorry!”

Keith swallowed the dizzying affection that rose up like bile in his throat, and yanked on Lance’s hand. 

“C’mon. You won’t regret having to hang your shoes out to dry.”

It takes maybe another few minutes of wading through the brush and listening to the crickets before they got to their destination. Keith stopped at the curtains, his heartbeat loud enough in his ears to drown out even the cricket’s song.  
Keith made a grab for Lance’s other hands, silently hoping his own hands weren’t too sweaty. And Lance was looking up at him with those big baby blues, a little quirk on his lips that Keith wasn’t quite sure he could chalk up the anxiety he felt.

‘Keith? Are you okay?” Lance whispered, rubbing one of Keith’s knuckles soothingly.

“Yeah.. So, here we are.” They stood in front of a red fleece blanket, strung up like a little curtain, the thick foliage of the trees only letting a little bit of that soft fairy light through.

Even with only a few beams of light, Keith could see the little flecks of gold that glittered in Lance’s eyes. God, he had it bad.

“So, what is here?” 

“Here is.. How I feel.”

Keith had never been good with feelings. He never learned how to say sorry and seek forgiveness, never learned how to tell someone they’d hurt him inside. It was almost like Keith forgot the definition of the word “feelings” after he turned nine.

But now was the time Keith had chosen to tackle this flaw within him. He knew he’d never get what he wanted if he couldn’t even do this, and what he wanted was Lance.

With that he pushed through the blanket and held it open for Lance to wander in, his hands slipping away so that he could see what was before him.

Lance stood in the entrance of the clearing, attention taken by the glowing yellow lights strung up in the trees, the soft tinny sound of music wafting from a little cup in the grass.

His blue iPod was the source of it, drawing a bigger smile on his face. 

There was a pile of blankets atop an old rusty orange pickup, years and years beyond working, In the bed of the truck there was a box of pizza and more pillows and blankets. (...Where did Keith get all this..?) It took a solid minute before Lance turned back at Keith, eyes watery and breathless.

“This is how you feel? You made all this.. For me?”

Keith could feel his dinner coming back up. “Y..Yeah.” 

Lance stared at him wordlessly, and it scared Keith out of his wits. He stepped closer and held out a hand, trying to will it to stop shaking.

“I want to have this with you, too.” Lance said, voice hoarse and quiet as he drew himself into Keith’s chest.

“I don’t want you to feel like you owe me anything, Lance..” Keith said, wrapping his arms around the small of Lance’s back and looking down on him. The last thing Keith would want is to hurt the most precious thing he’d ever held.

Lance looked up immediately, protesting, his eyes shining with determination. “No! I’m not doing this for your benefit.”

And with that Lance leans in close, his lashes fluttering shut and dusting his cheeks. Before he knows it, Keith is being kissed, and it’s exactly how he imagined it. Lance’s lips are velvet, his breath short and flitting, like a bird’s. His body is pressed flush against Keith's- so much so he could feel the quick rise and fall of his chest.

When instinct took over he was guided by the sweet lavender smell of Lance’s shampoo, the way he was kissing him.. Passionate, pure. 

Then Lance pulled away, but Keith’s arms were still locked around him tight, dazed. It was Lance’s voice that shook him from his stupor.

“Was that okay?” 

Keith looked down at Lance and felt his heart jump in his chest, leaning down and pressing a kiss to his forehead. “More than okay.” Keith mumbled, kissing the tip of Lance’s freckled nose, “It was amazing,” He continued, kissing both of Lance’s reddened cheeks then tilting his head up to kiss his chin. “Because you’re amazing.” Lance giggled, and Keith swooped in to steal a kiss on those smiling lips.

Oh, for nights on end Keith thought about doing that. And the reaction made his heart stop just as much as he thought it would. 

Lance shyly pulled away, his fingers finding Keith’s and he held on tightly, their sweaty palms sticking together in contrast to the cool night air around him. The dark haired man wondered if he’d been able to make Lance forget whatever he was crying about, he hoped so. The shorter man lead him to the bed of the pick-up and clambered inside, and Keith spotted him without even had to be asked. (Lance was too stubborn to ask for help, even when he really did need it) He finally fell onto the blankets with a muted ‘thump’ and sat up, chestnut hair sticking up in all directions and a radiant smile on his face. To Keith, it hadn’t really sunk in yet that Lance had kissed him. Let’s rephrase that. Lance has kissed him. 

He followed up into the truck and grabbed the pizza box, silently hoping it was still warm. He opened it up and presented it to Lance, who quickly took a slice and popped it into his mouth with an almost obscene noise. Even with pizza grease all around his lips and his cheeks full like a chipmunk’s, Keith was amazed he still found it endearing. 

He took a bite of his own slice, hoping that chewing would wipe that dopey grin off his face. 

Lance had his flaws, of course. They all did. Over a span of three and a half weeks, don’t think Keith hasn’t noticed them.. The insecurity that bites at Lance at night, the regret, the fear. He picks at his nails, bites them. Sometimes he licks his lips so much they crack and bleed.

The fiery stubbornness that clashes with his own almost every day. The fights were trivial, of course, and Keith couldn’t deny that the blazing blue in Lance’s eyes were a prettier color for flames than red would ever be. Sure, Keith was a tradesman- metal, sculpting, mosaic tile- and he couldn’t even say what had kept him in Southern CA for so long. He used to bounce, when he was younger, from small town to city to campsite. Sometimes he lived on the highway, other times he hid under a rock in the desert, a true solitary creature.

Yet now he had company, loud, boisterous, high maintenance company and it didn’t bother him one bit. Especially when he got to see the hint of freckles on Lance’s shoulder every time he wore a tank top, or a hint of the long expanse of cinnamon skin that was Lance’s legs. 

Oh, Lance’s legs, how much he would give to wrap those around his waist and grip the meat of his thighs, to hear his heated, punched out gasps as Keith would show him exactly what dreams had been waking him up in a sweat for the last two weeks. Those wet dreams he couldn’t even jerk off too later because Lance, long legs, slender body and all, was always a few yards away.

Yet as he chewed on his one slice and watched Lance grab another, it wasn't the way Lance was moaning around that hot pizza that gave him shivers, it was the way he yearned to wipe the pizza grease from the corner of Lance’s lips. What kind of sappy shit was going through his mind? How he wanted the bedhead he always heard Lance complain about as he tamed those curly chocolate locks to come from sleeping on his chest? Keith wanted to card his hands through Lance’s short hair every night as he slept over his heart, or maybe to hear Lance talk about his day, or his thoughts for the next week, or maybe a new movie he wanted to see. 

That’s when it hit him, leaning against the clouded glass window in the bed of that ancient truck, Keith wanted a home with Lance. A kind of home he himself had never had. But then again, any house, apartment, mansion, even sewer he would share with Lance would be a home. That's when Lance spoke up.

“Keith?” He said, still sounding a bit hesitant. Keith was quick to respond, mentally scolding himself for sounding like a puppy at his master’s heels.

“Yeah?” 

“Do you, uh, Do you w-”  
Lance took a deep breath, and even in the dark Keith could see his brown cheeks were cherry red. Adorable.

“Wanna dance with me?”

Lance breathed, holding out his hand to Keith, the gesture in itself enough to make Keith’s heart pound.

Keith took his hand with a smile, (Hoping his hands weren’t too sweaty, again,) and they climbed out of the truck. Lance bashfully lead him to the middle of the clearing, where the thin sound of music could be heard wafting through the grass more clearly. The song was one Keith knew well.

“I will feel a glow.. Just thinking of you..”

The Way You Look Tonight, Tony Bennett. Keith wrapped one arm around Lance, spreading his palm over the small of his back the other taking his hand. He felt the flame in his core grow hotter as he felt Lance’s hand, light on his shoulder.

“Oh but you’re lovely, with your smile so warm, and your cheeks so soft, there is nothing for me but to love you..

Just the way, you look- tonight..”

This was a song just for them, and if Keith had the pipes to serenade Lance with words this true, he’d jump at it.

The sound of the piano was soft and smooth, and Keith felt like he could melt right into Lance’s touch. When he felt a curly head press against him, ear right over his heart, Keith felt like maybe at some point he’d died and gone to heaven. At this point, he couldn’t tell the difference.

The lights felt lower and the stars felt brighter, shining down on the crowns of their heads with graceful smiles, and the angels Keith never thought existed had their eyes on his happiness.

Keith buried his face in Lance’s silky locks, taking a deep breath and letting the tension fall from his shoulders. He was where he needed to be, it was where Lance needed to be, in his arms.

Suddenly he felt anger flare up in the back of his monkey brain, that there could be people on this Earth that had Lance and didn’t have the sense to treat him like the treasure he was. He subconsciously drew in closer.

They swayed back and forth, barely moving from that spot, and the fear Keith had felt at not knowing how to dance had been proved pointless because if he wasn’t enjoying this so much he could argue this wasn’t dancing at all.

Then the kind of-silence was broken by a muffled voice, the hum of his voice reverberating against his chest.

“I thought you were going to leave.”

What?

“Lance?”

Lance continued, the swaying slowing to a stop, yet Lance didn't let go. Keith tried to tilt Lance’s chin up so he could meet his eyes, but Lance refused. His face remained hidden.

“I thought you were going to leave me. I thought you were sick of me, and my luck had run out.”

“Why would I leave?”

Lance buried his face farther into Keith’s chest, squeezing his eyes tight.

“Dunno. Everybody does.”

Keith’s heart sunk, cold and heavy in his chest. He wrapped both his arms tightly around Lance, and gently eased them to the forest floor.

“Look at me, Lance.”

It was hard to keep the concern from his voice. The damp grass felt uncomfortable under his knees, but his attention was elsewhere. Lance lifted is head to reveal red- rimmed eyes, a wobbly smile.

It was silent for a moment, as they both struggled for words. Lance found them first. 

“But you’re here.”

He breathed, slim fingers tangling themselves in Keith’s shirt. 

“You stayed.”

The wetness of the grass felt insignificant, the life behind them irrelevant. The only thing that mattered was the beating heart between Keith’s arms.  
“I’m not going anywhere, not without you.”

Keith whispered into the soft mess of a person that was Lance, sweet nothings into his soft hobbit hair as his body wracked with sobs, quiet yet true, and after that neither of them felt any need to get up from that spot.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> please comment the comments make my day! Also- i'm not gonna spoil anything about the chapter, but I will say that I DO believe in happy endings. so stay tuned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright!!! It escalates a bit in this chapter.. also, I had a TWELVE PAGE CHAPTER on my GOOGLE DOC and i had to be like, NO, these are SEVEN PAGE CHAPTERS ONLY! So I kinda chopped a scene in half. was not able to cap it at 4 chapters. sorry babies. DONT SWEAT IT THOUGH! You're my tin soldier, dear, will be BACK STUNNINGLY SOON!

When Keith woke up the next morning, the hard sheet metal bed of the rusty pickup he’d slept in was digging into his back. He groaned, attempting to roll over when a loose but unrelenting force pulled him back. Just then, his heart nearly stopped. He looked down to find a brown, curly head snoring peacefully over his chest. it was warm, even if the early morning California wind went right through their thin blankets. 

 

Lance’s legs were flung over him, star-fished, and his body tucked snugly at Keith’s side.

 

“Mmmh.”

 

Just as Keith was beginning to fall back asleep Lance groaned lowly against his chest, gripping him tighter.

 

“Didn’t think you’d still be here.. Thought I might be dreaming.”

 

Lance slurred, his voice thick with sleep. He lifted his head a bit, droopy- lidded baby blue’s connecting with Keith’s. His smile was infectious, and Keith found himself mirroring it.

 

“Nah, there’s no way I’d pass up a chance to see your cute bedhead.” 

 

His heart raced as Lance’s cheeks heated up, groaning and burying his face back into Keith’s chest. 

 

“Never knew you were a charmer. I thought you got all that ass by your good looks alone.”

Lance snickered from his place snuggled in deep, the blanket covering their bodies barely protecting the pair from the withering cold. Despite this, the moment still felt as warm as a winter hearth. 

 

Keith pulled Lance up roughly into a deep kiss, silencing him in the best way possible.

 

it was early morning bliss, and Keith was addicted to this intoxicating drug gasping against his lips.

 

-

 

There was no cure for what Keith had. And no illness that Keith knew of would have him melting at every touch, subject to the intensity of his love only when Lance was ten yards or more away, and it always hit him like an 18 wheeler. 

 

When Lance went to go light the fire, and Keith couldn't help but feel his eyes glued to Lance’s ass as he bent down. When he stepped out of the stream they'd been using to wash clothes for the last week and his shirt stuck to his chest and water dripped from his eyelashes, Keith’s hands itched to latch on to that beautiful silky skin, so close yet so far.

 

Keith wasn’t going to start or force anything Lance didn't want to do- He wasn’t that kind of guy, though he strongly suspected that’s what Lance was used to. Every time they kissed and Keith felt fireworks behind his eyelids, he would pull away and see a look of uneasiness deep in his partner’s eyes, like he suspected that soon, kisses wouldn't be enough to satisfy him.

 

Keith cracked his knuckles and slung another blanket over his shoulder. This was routine, whenever they packed up Keith cleaned he campsite, (Leave only footprints,) and Lance washed out all the things they’d used, water bottles and dirty clothes by the river. That’s where he was right now. 

 

But it had been a long time since he left, a little too long for Keith’s liking. He deposited the things in his arms into the bed of the trunk and took off through the woods. Keith was beginning to tire when he heard voices from the direction of the river, setting his nerves on end. One was rough and worn and a second- bubbly and bright.

 

Unfitting, for he knew who they were.

 

Keith knew about Lotor’s “Generals”, Zethrid, Ezor, and of course- Axca. He spat on the ground. Not that he wasn’t grateful Axca had been the final straw for Lance, the reason he now got to hold the man in his arms night after night. Luckily, he didn’t hear her voice among the ones by the river bank.

 

But they broke Lance’s heart. And that was reason enough to wish nothing less than death upon them. That’s when he heard it-! The crisp, water- crashing on rocks sound of his lover’s voice, strained and shrill. Keith pressed his back against a nearby tree and tried to listen.

 

“Oh Lance, it’s cute that you tried to run from Lotor. He gave you everything, and you knew firsthand-” She snickered, and Keith felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up, “Of his power!”

 

The rough one, the muscular Zethrid, spoke up next.

 

“Ezor, stop playing. You remember what Lotor said, we either take his husband back or make sure he can't take off  _ anywhere _ .”

 

Keith clenched his fist when he heard Lance whimper, then a shotgun cock. He stepped out of the shadows, unsheathing his knife and holding it out in front of him as menacing as he could manage. 

 

“Let him go. You have no business with either of us.”

 

Keith snarled, earning the surprise of everyone. Lance looked up from where he kneeled by the riverbed, wet clothing in a basket next to him. Ezor had her hands on her hips, standing next to Zethrid, who shouldered an old fashioned shotgun with her finger on the safety. 

 

“No business? This is our  _ job, _ trailer- rat.” Zethrid hissed in retaliation, closing her finger around the trigger.

 

Ezor turned her attention back to Lance.

 

“So, this is the lovely flower you went buzzing off to, slut? He’s quite the looker.”

 

Keith saw Lance burn in embarrassment as Ezor snickered. He tensed.

 

“C’mon Lance, We’re leaving. “ Keith turned to the two girls, continuing to speak to Lance. “They don’t know what they’re talking about.”

 

“Don’t know what we’re  _ talking  _ about?” Zethrid roared with laughter, but it was harsh, mocking mirth.

 

“You silly thing, you. Lance is anything but pure.”

 

This caught Keith’s attention, and when he pulled Lance behind him, he didn’t even get any resistance. 

 

Ezor dipped her hand into her jacket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes, glancing at Zethrid before pulling out one and pocketing the rest. She took out a lighter.

 

Keith spared a glance at Lance, whose eyes were downcast and hands tangled into the back of his leather jacket. Everything seemed to move almost in slow motion, his nerves tense with anticipation. 

 

Violet eyes flickered upward to meet the soft whoosh of a new flame, the lighter in Ezor’s hands illuminating her face in an almost eerie glow. He watched it flicker, gentle and soft, dancing in the chilly wind. When Ezor lit up her cigarette, it blazed and crackled, the flame eating up its next victim like a hawk on a mouse. 

 

Keith stilled. Fire blazed bigger, hotter, consuming a house. He heard screams, yet barefoot in the damp grass he stood. The wind ruffled the length of his ratty pajamas, covered in soot, and the flame burned brighter. Keith curled his toes in the grass and a crash came from inside the big house as he watched, face blank. a few moments later the screaming slowly stopped. it gurgled to an end like the dripping of a broken faucet, leaving the night in silence. Now he could clearly hear the popping of the fire, the burnt rubber, the smell of burning flesh. 

 

Now Keith was the one screaming. He yanked his hands away, vision fuzzy around the edges… the same smell of burning flesh searing his nose. A little taller and wearing shoes now, Keith looked up to meet the eyes of a smelly man, his eyes bloodshot and his skin damp. The man’s nose hooked and Keith could see nose hair untrimmed poking out from large nostrils, just a little lower cracked, bloody lips and scratchy, gray scruff. Between yellowing teeth a cigarette smoked, on his own hands- burns in the shapes of little circles. Keith could hear his hallowed breathing, among the other sounds of the busy city. The kettle whistling in the small tenement apartment, infomercials buzzing softly from the TV set, solicitors lurking in the streets a few floors below. When Keith looked up again, the man was gone. 

 

The fire blazed around him now, but the sound raging in his ears was devoid of yelling. It hissed and rattled like a twisting, turning snake. It choked him, smothering him… his eyeballs drowned in their sockets, the warm sticky liquid he knew to be his own blood spilling from his face, pouring from his mouth, silencing him. He couldn’t move, he couldn’t speak, he couldn’t breathe. The ringing in his ears escalated to a point where he was hoarse from the screams he could not release, then-!

 

“ ..-Keith!

 

He gasped, his eyes flooded with a blinding light. Keith’s hands shook, his forehead drenched with sweat. He blinked rapidly, eyes tearing up and running hot down his cheeks. 

 

Keith opened his eyes, a shade obscuring the wicked sun. A soft hand pushed his bangs from his eyes, and worried blue eyes blinked down at him, tears on long lashes. 

 

“...Keith, are you okay?”

 

Lance breathed, petting his forehead softly. Creases tainted the soft skin of his forehead, eyebrows drawn together in concern. Keith licked his dry lips and pushed himself up from where he lay propped up against a tree, and looked around. 

 

Where were Ezor and Zethrid?

 

Keith panicked, looking around with wide eyes- then he saw it, the gun in Lance’s hand. 

 

Which he faintly realized was Ezor’s.

 

Zethrid’s rifle lay on the bank of the river. 

 

‘Did you  _ kill _ them?” Keith exclaimed, looking up to Lance in horror. 

 

“No, of course not! Why would I- Why would-!” Lance sputtered, dropping the gun like it had burned his hand. 

 

He immediately took Keith’s face in his hands and pulled him close, examining his face critically. 

 

“Are you sure you’re okay? You never answered me. Where did you go just then?” 

 

Keith shook his head, cheeks squished between Lance’s hands. 

 

“I’m okay. I don’t know what that was, it was like… like-”

 

Lance finished that sentence for him, dusky lips turning down at the edges.  

 

“-Like you were trapped in your own mind.”

 

“... Yeah.”

 

-

 

Once Keith and Lance had finished packing up the car, they both slid into the front seats, Keith behind the wheel and Lance in the passenger seat. It was silent- both men solemn and lost in their own thoughts. 

 

Lance cleared his throat and glanced at Keith, eyes flickering down to where the pale man’s fingers tapped franticly against the steering wheel.  He then switched on the radio.

 

A humming guitar song came through the old system, easing the atmosphere just a little bit. But it was enough. 

 

“I’m.. I don’t know what that was. I’m sorry.”

 

Keith started, hands gripping the wheel so hard now that his knuckles were white. 

 

“Keith-”

 

Lance sighed, reaching out gently. 

 

“No!” Keith cried, slamming his palms down on the old leather of the dashboard, “I should have been there for you, they had  _ guns _ and I came to save you and-”

 

He was silenced with a kiss to his lips, just forceful enough to shut him up. Lance broke away with a small groan. 

 

“Thank you. I can take care of myself, though.” 

 

That’s when Keith realized..  “Wait, how did you- where did they go if you di-”

 

“I didn’t kill them! Wow, jeez.”

 

Lance sighed, a fond smile settling on his lips. 

 

“Anyways, where to next?”

 

Keith smiled devilishly in response and reached over, yanking at Lance’s waist and pulling him up into his lap with ease. Lance squawked and hit his shoulder, sending him a disapproving look. When Lance opened  _ his  _  mouth, it was Keith’s turn this time to shut him up with a kiss. 

 

Only this kiss grew deeper, consuming them in a flurry of frenzied, wandering hands and the steady escalation of sensuality.

 

Lance rolled his hips with a low moan, lidded eyes roaming the expanse of a panting Keith below him. 

 

They both jumped in surprise when the car horn honked loudly behind Lance as he had accidentally backed into it, shaking from them any ideas of how to spend the next few hours.

 

After a moment of shock Lance leaned in, pulling his teeth lightly over Keith’s jaw and whispered in his ear.

 

“I’m not fucking you in your car.”

 

‘Laaaance..” Keith groaned, letting his head hit the car seat and slumping back into it. To that Lance chuckled, and swung back into his seat. He clicked the seat-belt on and fiddled a bit more with the radio, as Keith revved up the engine and started yet another of many long, long drives.

 

-

 

The radio was playing something like Jim Croce now, something twangy and soft. The sun had set over the horizon not two hours ago, yet Keith still sat behind the wheel. Lance was curled up in the seat next to him, an open bag of jerky in his lap and crumbs on his lips. 

 

It had been a long day for both of them, no matter what they say, and Keith was beginning to envy the sleep Lance was getting a bit too much. He stared out at the open road, the same stretch as far as the eye could see. They were no longer so deeply wedged in the wine valley of California, but instead Keith was taking them to San Francisco, where he knew a guy who could help them get away. For good.

 

It was peaceful, in a way, this absolute simplicity that consumed Keith’s life. Only two things on his mind at all times- Where to next, and Lance.

 

He figured it was similar for Lance, but he had a suspicion that the carefree boy had a bit more going on behind those blue eyes that he let on. Keith knew he could never understand what Lance had gone through, with a guy like  _ Lotor  _ for a husband. Sharing a bed, a life. The grip Keith had on the steering wheel had gone white. 

 

A purple neon sign flickered in the distance, seemingly on its last legs of life. 

 

“Quik- E- Mart”, it read, complete with the big Ready Ice box in front and very, very bored clerk becoming clearer through the window as the car approached. Keith sighed and begrudgingly pulled the car into a parking space right up front, trying to put the old car into park as quietly as he possibly could. 

 

He unbuckled himself and popped open the car door, glancing at Lance, sound asleep, before heading inside by himself. He heard the small bell chime at his entrance.

 

_ What Keith  _ didn’t  _ hear approaching was the one thing they’d managed to stay away from for weeks. _

 

As he walked through the isles and picked off the needed supplies, Cheetos, bottled water, more jerky, (God, Lance was like an animal!) and.. A few Twinkies, for good measure. He paid and began to make his way outside, only to be met with a nasty surprise.

 

Two cars, expensive looking ones at that, pulled up next to his old BMW, headlights almost blinding his eyes. 

 

Keith cursed under his breath and dropped the goods, reaching back and gripping the handle of his combat knife anxiously.

 

_ Lotor. That damned LOTOR! _

 

Keith could still see Lance sleeping in the front seat. For a moment nobody moved, and then it was frenzy- Keith racing as fast as he could to the driver’s side door, Lotor’s men coming out of those two cars with guns in their hands. Those Lincoln’s were like clown cars- they were so small but the men that were spilling out seemed to be way too many to fit in that space. 

 

Keith jammed the keys in the ignition and slammed his foot on the gas, pushing the car into manual reverse and barely managing to not run anybody over in his furor to escape. By now Lance was wide awake, gripping the seat handles and screaming in confusion. 

 

The incoherence soon turned into words, though.

 

“Keith! What the- What’s- AHhh!”

 

He cried, but Keith just kept on driving like a madman, weaving his way through the other cars and back out onto the open road. And Keith was nothing if not a brilliant..  _ Driver. _

 

_ Pilot! _

 

The BMW seemed to be almost flying across the darkened highway, and Keith knew at this point it was only a matter or driving right into the crops on either side of the road, or running out of gas. He also knew it didn’t bode well for them in the slightest, but when they sped past a sign that read “San Francisco, 15 miles,” he thought maybe, just maybe,  they had a chance. 

  
  


Lance had realized what was going on by now, and was staring out the rear window, eyes like saucers. He released a string of curses that surprised even Keith with their potency, and began fishing through the back seat. 

 

“Lance! I can’t see through the window if you do that!”

 

Lance grunted and came back a moment later with Zethrid’s shotgun, cocking it and using the crank to turn down the window to his right.

 

“Just keep driving!”

 

Lance poked his head out the window and cocked the shotgun. 

 

“Don’t miss…” Keith spared a glance to lance then immediately turned his attention back to the road, rounding a curve and giving Lance the perfect shot, unintentionally. 

 

When Keith looked back behind him the cars in pursuit seemed to have almost multiplied, as now there were twice as many- gaining fast. 

 

A gunshot rang out , the sound quickly getting lost in the wind. Then one of the cars swerved off the road, straight into the unending wall of crops that lined either side of the highway.  Lance quickly ducked back into the car and cocked the shotgun again. An empty shell fell from the gun and he smiled. 

 

“I never do.” 

 

Keith laughed maniacally, the adrenaline of the chase, the constant danger, exciting him to no end. “You’re quite the sharpshooter, aren't you!” 

 

Lance stared at the road, a wide smile on his face. The excitement certainly was contagious.  “That I am.”

 

Lance poked his head back out his window and let off another shot, then another, and two of the gaining cars crashed into each other, blocking off another two that were hot on their trail. He whooped loudly and yelled,

 

“Step on the gas! “

 

But out of a side street, three more cars pulled out to block their path and Keith had to slam on the brake, the car skidding to a stop. They both sat there panting, as the rest of the cars following them came to a halt behind them, effective trapping in the tired BMW, and it’s two passengers.

 

Lotor himself stepped out of the side door on one of the cars in front of them, followed closely by his men. Lance watched with horror etched onto his features, subconsciously pressing back farther into the seat of the car, and gripped the barrel of his shotgun harder. 

 

“Lance.” Keith said, his eyes glued to the white haired man waiting for them outside. “Lance, I won’t let them have you. I promise.”

 

Lance looked at him with watery eyes, and placed a hand on the car door handle. He unbuckled his seat-belt.

 

“I know, Keith.” 

 

He faltered, then leaned into the driver's seat, bracing himself on the dashboard. Lance opened his mouth then closed it again, inches away from Keith’s face. Like Lance knew something he did  _ not _ , and it was killing Keith to see Lance with a burden he could not bear for him. 

 

“I love you.” Lance whispered hoarsely, then kissed Keith. It was brief but forceful, like Lance was trying to push all of his feelings, all the passion and lust, all the soft mornings of sunlight that freckled down from the treetops. All the ups and downs, the grocery shopping trips and sad, sad movies, all the times they would lean on  _ each other _ , be the crutches to stay standing or the clowns to bring laughter. Onto Keith in that moment, Lance was pushing an entire lifetime. Like Lance was saying  _ goodbye. _

 

Then Lance broke away and all of the color that had exploded behind Keith’s eyes at the slightest of his touches faded to grey. Keith reached out for Lance but he was already opening his car door, already out of his reach. 

 

“No, wait- Lance-”

 

He was stepping out of the car now, one foot on the ground. But Keith still didn’t  _ understand.  _ He  _ didn’t understand! _

  
What on  _ Earth _ was Lance about to  _ do _ ?


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So hey!! its recommended that as a brief recap you read chap. 4, because I literally just jump in there. First time readers, you're doing amazing. I love you. Subscribed persons, I love you too! Thank you for supporting me!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know the total number of chapters keeps changing, but honestly, I have no idea how many there will be. every time I think I'm on the last chapter, I'm not. But I think we can do well with just three more chapters. I've actually planned the story out! :))))

“-must you follow me across the country, Lotor? Is it just your pride that drives you to do this?”

Lotor stepped closer and Lance stepped back, as if the twenty feet of space in between them already wasn’t enough. 

“You belong to me, Lance. I know that. They-” Lotor gestured to the men that enclosed the road like a cage. “-know that. YOU know that.” 

“I’m sure even Keith knows that.” Lotor derided. 

Lance started, opening his mouth to speak. His voice sounded small and unsure, but still reached every pair of listening ears. 

“I.. I belong to no one. I may have married you, but I didn’t sell you my soul! Just let us go, Lotor.”

Lance swallowed his pride. “...Please!”

Keith ground his teeth. Lance shouldn’t have to beg for Lotor to leave him alone. Leave them alone. 

He stepped forward., and stood in front of Lance. Keith bristled, holding out his arm in front of Lance. 

“No. You lost the right to Lance the minute you laid a finger on him.” Keith snarled, other hand on his knife. 

“Ah ah ah, there will be no need for that, Keith.” Lotor waved his hand. 

Keith felt the cold barrel of a gun against the base of his neck. 

“This conversation is between Lance and I.” 

He then turned back to Lance. 

“Dearest, there’s no way I’d let you be with anyone but me! I gave you everything- a home, comfort, money- you had the world at your fingertips and you betrayed me anyways. When you had nothing, when you had no one, I took you in. When even that precious Dance Company of yours shut you out- I took you in. I helped you wipe your slate clean. Do you know what your precious Allura is doing now?”

Lance was trembling under Lotor’s harsh stare, the gun clattering from his hands onto the concrete road loudly. It punctuated Lotor’s sentence with a harsh finality. 

“Trying her best to forget you. You were nothing but a burden for her, for the rest of your friends. Your family. Did I ever tell you about when your father rang my doorbell and begged me to take you off his hands?

“Of course I didn’t. But you’re my charge, and I made good use of you and your skills, didn’t I?”

That statement earned a few laughs, and it pained Keith to see how red Lance’s cheeks were. He stared intently at the floor, hands tight by his sides. Silent.

“But Lance, now it’s time to come home. You had your fun, your month of prancing around with this.. Boy toy of yours. Besides, you do remember what you said to Ezor and Zethrid, right? What you promised..?”

Lance tensed, squeezing his eyes shut, leaving Keith confused, and searching for answers. 

Promise? What promise?

Then Lance nodded and stepped forward, in turn causing Keith to lurch forward, arm outstretched, soon to be reminded of the gun that kept him in place. 

Lotor’s sharp eyes turned briefly to Keith, as if to reduce a howling dog to whimpering. Lance was his prize, and he couldn’t have Keith getting in the way. 

“I.. I remember.”

Lance glanced at Keith, eyes swimming in apologies. But it was like everything was moving in slow motion, even the drops of sweat moving down Keith’s neck. 

“Let me say goodbye.”

Keith’s world imploded. Lance walked towards him, silent and lips tense with worry, and embraced him in a hug. Keith was sure he looked stupid, standing there limp as Lance’s arms wrapped around him probably for the last time, eyes wide and disbelieving. 

What Lance whispered in his ear, he didn’t hear through the white noise, the ringing in his ears. By the time he found his voice it was too late, and he was watching Lance leave, his form becoming further and further away. 

“Lance! No!”

He cried, surging forward without the chains of gunpoint holding him back. He ran and ran, worn sneakers hitting the pavement. 

“Please, No!”

His vision was blurry. 

“Come back!”

His voice was hoarse .

But those sleek black Lincolns were racing away, with Lance was inside one of them. He was with Lotor again, and Keith knew it was his fault. But the shaking man was left alone, with nothing but the flickering road light and the raging storm of his own anger for company. 

When his knees hit the concrete, he didn’t even feel the sting.

-

Lotor’s cologne was just as sickly sweet as Lance remembered. It stung his nose.

He sat on the plush leather seat in silence, hands folded in his lap. Lotor’s men had vacated their car to give the Boss and his husband some privacy, at Lotor’s special request. Lance hated this sacred etiquette. T reminded him of the first time he and Lotor went on a date, almost six years ago.

It was a fancy restaurant, it was Lotor telling Lance he meant business. That he meant to have Lance for the long haul. 

Le Vin Fantaisiste, Lance remembered vaguely. He had some steak, something. Lotor had a Sous Vide Butter-Poached Lobster… that, was vivid. The rich smell on a rich man, and Lance was just a little boy looking through the toy store window. 

Fuck,

Lance thought, digging his nails into his palm. That restaurant had been a nice change from the normal jocks in jeeps, Pizza Hut and Dairy Queen. Lance had always been a small town boy, and on that night he stuck out like a sore thumb. But champagne and fancy coattails had dazzled him

But now he was some puppy Lotor had rescued, grown out of the face slobbering. Realizing that while on the chain, he would never go hungry, but when let loose, he could learn the true meaning of freedom. 

That chain-less existence had been Keith, fiery Keith.

Lance was in Love, real, true, painful, gut wrenching and soul searching LOVE! And that’s what made leaving him so..

“Lance.”

His head shot up, in response to the call. Like a trained circus monkey.

“I want to inform you that we’ll be spending the week in our San Francisco home, where you will be under lock and key.”

Lance bit the inside of his cheek so hard it bled. Lotor continued.

“There will be a formal in your honor, as you are well again, after your unfortunate bout with pneumonia. You will expected to ask cordially, like the gracious host I know you are.”

He waited for an answer, but Lance refused to give him one.

“You will not have any contact with anyone outside of this household. If I hear you tried to communicate with anyone, by any means, there will be consequences.”

The next thing Lance knew, Lotor was right next to his ear, breath hot and sour on his neck. Once upon a time, this turned him on. Now, it sent only shivers down his spine. 

“You know what those are.”

-

Every single one of Keith’s limbs felt heavy as lead. When the wind got too chilly he dragged himself back to the car, and sat alone, hands on the wheel, in the middle of the abandoned road. 

It was almost a half an hour before he let himself cry. 

Cry for what he’d lost, what he’d never have. Quiet, hot tears flowed down his cheeks. Keith didn’t wail. When his house had burned, he didn’t sob. Countless foster homes, he’d never bawl. Even now, Keith only gasped for his breath, tasting the sordid salt of his tears on chapped lips. After all he’d done. By now, Keith wasn’t sure if he’d failed, or Lance had left him. 

Lance wouldn’t leave him, Keith was sure of it. But it sure looked that way. 

The road was calm and quiet, and Keith’s tears had exhausted him. He soon drifted into a restless sleep.

I never got to see Lance in his ballet shoes, Keith thought vaguely.

I never got to see him dance.

In the pitch black behind his eyelids, Lance appeared- lit by a soft purple spotlight. Sound echoed in that space so that it seemed infinitely wide, but this Dream Lance only had eyes for him. He stood in first position, pale, glittering tights trailing up his long legs and fading into a blue leotard, that of a prince. Sparkling silver coat tails came to a rest like fairy wings behind him, and the silk of his ballet shoes sounded soft against the ground he and Keith both stood on. The rest of his costume was tight against his body, accentuating his lean physique and well earned dancer’s muscle. It was delicate yet demanded respect, just like the look in Lance’s eyes, looking darkly at him.

He was a star on this dark, simple stage in Keith’s mind.

Then he swept himself into a bow, graceful and practiced. Applause came from all around him, even though he thought them to be alone. Lance stood again and lifted one leg, as if waiting for music to begin. 

On cue, it did. And Lance leaped forward.

He flowed like the softest of whispers in the wind, spinning around and dipping, moving as a puppet on a string, around Keith in circles that made his head spin. With every rise in the melody Lance came closer, his face blank except for a knowing smile. Keith stood in the center of this strange dream, as his memories rode on the back of Dream- Lance, teasing him closer and closer. 

Please..

He heard himself say, fingers twitching at his sides. But Lance only danced harder, working himself harder and pushing further. 

The music crescendoed, and Keith was entranced by the man who moved as gracefully as a bird, the only light in that dark empty place seemingly running to Lance, gathering about him, he glowed. 

Keith was breathless. His knees were jelly, but Dream- Lance never noticed. He danced on, nearing Keith with each step. Until he was a breath away, hands held up like a mime in front of his face. Lance’s mouth morphed into a soft “o”, His eyes widening almost comically. As he slowed to a stop in front of Keith the music concluded and faded away, leaving Keith only with the sound of his own heartbeat, with Dream- Lance inches from his face. After a moment of this, Lance’s left hand lowered to Keith’s ribs and he placed one gloved index finger there. Keith didn’t even feel the pressure until his side was throbbing in pain, and he hissed.

Then Lance’s voice echoed in his head. Not on that empty stage, but just in his own mind.

Think, Corazón. 

Then Lance faded to black, just like the rest of the dream. Keith awoke with the sun filtering through the car window, and the pain in his side still present. 

He blinked groggily and patted at the pain in his side, only to find a piece of paper poking him, tucked in his jacket. 

Keith pulled it out and examined it, frowning.

It was a brochure, for San Francisco. On it was Lance’s chicken scratch, a name, address and phone number. 

Below it was a message, smudged pen and a little heart, signed with a barely legible Lance.

Pull me out of the fire one more time, bombón.

-

Starting up the engine, Keith began to finish the final stretch to the San Francisco city limits that he’d had to halt so suddenly the night before. He didn’t bother turning on the radio at all, or cleaning up the jerky crumbs on the seat. Keith spent the next two hours in silence.

The GPS told him, (They’d picked up a dinky GPS a few stops prior,) That the address was in Marina district. Not a long drive, maybe two hours at most. Mostly, Keith just thought about what Lance was doing. He tried to think on the bright side.

Maybe he was already wearing another one of those designer shirts he likes so much. Lotor wouldn’t do anything to hurt him, no.. Lotor loved Lance. Right?

Lotor tried to have both of us killed, a voice chided in his head. He shushed himself, and decided that maybe it was a good idea to turn on the radio.

An hour and a whole lot of Johnny Cash later, He was inside city limits. Keith tore out the bit of the brochure with the address in it and trashed the rest, (Keeping the note, of course,) and headed a different way. 

There was another stop he needed to make, a particularly important one. 

-

Lance used to find the endless wall of perfectly trimmed bushes in the gardens just outside his window beautiful. Now all he could see were the cut stems, shaping them into little rectangles, restricting the new growth by literally cutting it off at the pass. There was no longer beauty in order, at least not for him.

There was beauty in the cute way Keith’s face scrunched up when he organized the camping gear in the truck, the special way he had to have it. There was a system, you see, and he had done it over and over. There was beauty in the way the evening sun had freckled through the trees onto Keith’s thick hair, like a dark lion's mane, and tickled his face. Keith’s mullet had grown on him, and now there was no way for him to live without it, he was sure.

Lance clenched his jaw. It was hard to find things that didn’t remind him of Keith.

Even when he was taking a shower, the first one in days, the soft glow of the accent lighting at the footboards could remind him of the time he and Keith first met.

How even the first time, the dirty work gloves that Keith had to wear enchanted him, those large hands performing such delicate work. There were a lot of things Keith could do delicate, Lance recalled, thinking back to the fairy lights and slightly cold pizza. 

It had been hard not to fall for him before that, but the look Keith gave him right then, right before they kissed, was impossible to resist. 

A cold voice wiped the look of love sickness right from his face. 

“I thought I told you to get dressed. What are those rags you’re wearing?”

Lance scowled. He spun around from where he stood, looking out the floor to ceiling window. (Lance never liked it, always said he felt like he was a fish in a tank.)

“What are you talking about?” Lance spat, crossing his arms over the turtleneck defensively.

“I thought I told you we were having people over. Be in the great room by six, and.. Don’t.. Wear that.”

Lance quickly looked at his feet. 

“If one month away has washed away all of your manners, Lance, then I may as well upgrade and get myself a better model anyways.’

Then Lotor left the room, and once again Lance was alone with his thoughts.

-

Keith pulled into a parking lot off of of a crowded busy downtown street, the scorching sun beating down on him through the untreated glass windows. He put the can into park and stepped into the sweltering heat, shrugging off his jacket and stashing it in the passenger seat. Keith paid the parking meter and headed off down the street, looking into each little shop as he went.

He was looking for a specific shop, the Voltron Lotus, of which he hadn't been in years. In it would be a man he hadn’t seen in years.

Soon he stood in front of the Lotus, heart pounding. Then he placed his hand on the cool metal door handle, noticing how much more worn the front of the shop was from the last time he had been there. Seven years, now. 

Last time he’d seen Shiro he had been a child.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ok!! I'm sorry that took so long.. I've been having a really rough time at school. But, Like always, You're My Tin Soldier, Dear, Brought me happiness! We're back, surly bitches!

Barely fifteen, when he’d run away.

The bell to the shop chimed as Keith. stepped inside, eyes adjusting to the dimmed light. The Voltron Lotus hadn’t changed much in seven years, still the same worn brown leather booths and granite countertop. The whole place smelled deeply of green tea and dark coffee, and the few patrons that were in there didn’t bother to look up from their laptops. 

A man with tanned skin, dark hair and little rectangular glasses manned the counter, who Keith recognized as Shiro’s boyfriend, but judging my the ring on his finger, now probably husband. 

Adam glanced up at Keith then back down at whatever receipt he was studying, before doing a double take. 

“Keith?” He gasped, staring at the man in front of him in shock. Keith was no longer fifteen, that's for sure. He bristled, partly from shame and partly from embarrassment.

“Is that you, really?”

Adam came out from behind the counter. His hands seemed to hover in front of hit, like he was afraid to touch, afraid to find out that Keith wasn’t real after all.

Keith cleared his throat. He opened his mouth to speak, but before any words could come out of his mouth they died in his throat. 

Out of the back room came Shiro, eyes on his phone and looking so, so different.

He’d gone gray, for one, and little rectangular glasses rested on the bridge of his nose. He obviously hadn’t noticed Keith yet.

Adam followed Keith’s worried eyes back to Shiro, and a frown graced his lips once more. “ You broke his heart, you know.”

Keith winced. He knew, and the fact that he had betrayed the trust of the only person who ever believed in him.. Left him burdened with stale regret.

But he left for a reason, A reason he would stand by even now. 

“Shiro.”

Shiro’s head shot up, eyes wide. The silence of the little shop felt deafening now, and the tension between the three men had attracted some attention.

Keith took three steps forward, quickly, then thought better of it and took one step back.

“..Shiro?” Adam whispered, watching his husband intensely.

Before he knew it, Keith found himself being crushing in a hug. Shiro had crossed the room in seconds, his arms tight around Keith’s torso.

“Keith, you came back. You’re alive!”

Shiro sniffled, burying his face into Keith’s neck, who, was about as shell shocked as you’d expect him to be.

“Shiro-!” Keith croaked, pawing at Shiro’s broad back, as the older man cried crocodile tears. 

“I’d though we loooost yoouuuu!” 

Keith caught Adam’s eye, his eyebrow raised in suspicion. Obviously the other man hadn’t forgiven him yet.

Keith awkwardly rubbed circles into Shiro’s back. Out of everything that he’d been expecting, this hadn’t even been on his list.

“I’m sorry, buddy. I’m sorry I made you worry.”

Adam’s eyes seemed to almost bug out of his head. “Worry?” He chose that moment to intercede.

“You think you made us worry? We were in misery worrying about you!”

Shiro released Keith from his hug and that’s when Keith saw it, the pain behind Shiro’s happy tears. Suddenly he felt the guilt eating him inside out, like god’s ginormous hand had reached inside his chest and grasped his entire rib cage, the crumpled it like a piece of paper. then , probably threw it in the garbage. That’s how Keith felt, like he had a garbage heart.

“I’m sorry.”

Keith mumbled, shoulders tensing up. He stared at the worn- away wooden floor, feeling like a child of nine again. 

Adam clenched his fists. He seemed more protective of Shiro’s apparent suffering than angry at Keith himself. 

“Sorry?” Adam took a small step forward, and in turn Keith took a small step back. 

“You can’t possibly be sorry enough. We opened our arms to you, Keith! And you left.”

“I’m sorry.”

Keith repeated, hands clasped behind his back. The spattering of people who were in the Lotus in the first place seemed to have tricked out. 

“I-!” Adam started again, only this time his rage was silenced by a soft hand on his upper arm. Shiro has had enough. And with Shiro’s mouth open and words on his tongue, the silence seemed to be even heavier.

Keith swore he could cut it with a knife.

Shiro took a step forward and offered his hand up solemnly. 

“Why have you come here, Keith?”

His words hung in the air. 

-

Less than an hour later Keith was sitting at the bar, a mug of almost empty green tea between his hands. He could see the strained remnants of the leaves at the bottom of the mug, and to try and lighten the guilty darkness in his mind, wondered if he, or anyone he knew, could read tea leaves.

Maybe his Mum could. That’s why he left in the first place, to find his birth mother. After what felt like forever explaining it to his adopted family, they seemed to understand. But just because Shiro and Adam understood him, did not mean they forgave him for up and leaving all those years ago.

His knuckles were starting to get white and he feared the fragile mug would break. 

“So, that’s about it.”

Keith mumbled, his voice trickling off nervously. 

Shiro spoke up first. Keith was grateful he could no longer hear that wet ache in his voice, but somehow the disappointment in his words was so much worse.

“Keith, you still haven’t told us why you’ve come.”

Keith sighed, his shoulders folding further in on himself. He just wanted to shrink, to disappear. But the thought of why he’d returned at all, gave him courage.

“I’m here because I’m in love.”

He heard a small gasp in response. 

“I’m in love and Lance is in danger, I need your help to bring him back to me.”

Keith felt pride swell in his chest at those words, that he loved Lance, because never had he said those words out loud and now that they were there, in the air around him, he felt warm.

It made his heart ache, because that warmth was only a shadow of how he felt when Lance was near.

“Wait, Lance?” Adam gasped, covering his mouth with his hands, a horrified look on his face. Both Keith and Shiro turned to him in confusion. 

“Lance McClain? Ballet Dancer from Santa Monica?” Adam said, voice barely above a whisper. 

Keith felt his blood run cold. He nodded, digging blunt nails into his palm. 

“Yes, That’s him. How did you know? Do you know of him?”

Adam nodded solemnly. He busied himself behind the bar making another drink, but it was just to keep his hands from shaking.

“Lance is my cousin. Distant, but still blood.” He then continued.

“Lance is.. The one nobody talks about. We worry, of course, my father was sure he was dead. Yet here we are, I guess. When he was young, sixteen, maybe- Lance was a prodigy. He was amazing, Keith. Lance had a future. But then his mum got sick.

“ And he was devastated. He showed up less frequently to the studio that relied on him, and his dance partner, Allura.”

“Lotor mentioned Allura!” Keith exclaimed, becoming less interested in his tea the more Adam explained. 

“Yes. Lance’s entire family was worried that they would never be able to pay for the treatment Lance’s mother needed. With the low wages his siblings made, and the terms of his father’s retirement, They would barely still afford Lance’s dance lessons. He felt guilty, of course, and began to wean himself off of dance, no matter how much it killed him. His mother came first.

“Then he met a man at a party, and they hit it off. I was never that close to Lance so I never got the full story, but this new guy was loaded and made Lance a deal.”

Keith’s stomach cured at that word. A deal, a deal for a life. Just like his.

“Yes? Continue please, Adam. I’m listening.” Keith said shakily. 

“A deal, where Lotor would provide full treatment for Lance’s mother and support for his family, and Lance would completely shirk his career and college, and marry him. Of course this was a very, very nice way of saying that Lance would be trading himself as a husband for his mother’s life. 

“Oh, Lotor was deadly jealous of Allura. So of course there was an ultimatum.”

Adam sighed, nursing the bridge of his nose. 

“Don’t ask me the details of how it happened, but Lance chose Lotor, and to support his family. Allura was put into a coma from a car wreck a week later, along with her uncle. Her father was killed.”

“It was all over the news,” Shiro mumbled, placing a comforting hand on Adam’s wrist. 

Keith blanched. He stared down at his tea now, realizing it all made sense. Then of course, Lance had lived with his husband for a few years, contracted Keith for his kitchen, then a couple years later.. 

“I’m so sorry, Keith. Lance didn’t tell you any of this?”

Keith shook his head, biting the inside of his cheek. Did Lance not trust him? Had he not laid himself out before Lance, fully and completely?

“Keith..”

Adam and Shiro came out from behind the counter and embraced Keith in a big hug, pulling him up from the bar stool and into their arms. 

But before he knew it Keith had another mug in his hands. This time it was black coffee. He sat on the couch in between Adam and Shiro, nursing it tenderly. 

“Lance is back with Lotor. He doesn’t want to be, he wants to be with me. And I want to be with him.”

Adam shared a look with Shiro, then spoke. “We know where he is. Er- Where he’ll be tonight.”

“Lotor is having a Gala, for their entire circle. Lance will e there, now that he’s.. Over his pneumonia.” 

Shiro says in turn, continuing. “But we’re catering pastries, Keith, and we know exactly how to get you in!”

He looked up skeptically, a pout clear on his face. 

“Tonight is masquerade..”

“And we know just the two people equipped a minivan and some very impressive hacking capabilities…”

Shiro punched in a number on his phone. 

“They were students at the high school where I work.”

A short girl with short fluffy hair and an incredible scowl on her face entered the shop not a half an hour later, followed but a big sunkissed hunk named… well, Hunk, as Keith later found out. “Hunk and Pidge”, as they introduced themselves, “Hackers extraordinaire.” 

Adam and Shiro were right, they did have a very sweet minivan and amazing computer skills. But soon it was almost time, and Adam shoved a suit into his arms. A jet black sport coat and pants, paired with a crimson undershirt and blood red tie. Then, a sleek black eye mask, masquerade style.

“Here. It’ll be easier to get in if you look the part.”

Pidge piped up. “Yeah, we’re just here to make sure everything goes smoothly, and to give you both a getaway ride. We’ll be waiting just outside the kitchen door, along with the Lotus’s catering van. It’s your job to get in, get Lance, and get out. “

“Wait..” Keith paused, looking down at Pidge. “You know Lance?” 

They nodded. “We went to highschool together. It would be a lie if I said I didn’t miss him.”

Keith smiled, took the suit, and went in the back to change. 

 

Lance tugged at the lapel of his suit, it’s tailored fit curving just right around his waist and chest. Of course wearing these tailor made things had once been second nature, but after feeling Keith’s arms around him, Lance knew he would never find anything that would fit that perfectly ever again. 

He looked in the mirror and adjusted his hair. It looked fine, of course, straightened and hairsprayed, but he felt so wrong. Lance knew his life wasn’t for him anymore, with the sparkling champagne and mid morning cricket games. Maybe if it was Keith by his side, his laugh bright enough to fill even this ginormous, darkened house with light. But after just one forced night in Lotor’s bed, Lance knew he would never belong here again. 

But the hour of the masquerade was coming up fast, and evening set of the garden outside of Lance’s window. With every passing second it felt as if Lance was getting closer and closer to locking himself into these walls with a ball and chain, though try as he might, because he would never be able to convince himself he was happy in this house. 

Then a knock came on the door and shook Lance from his stupor. He straightened up, just as a hard voice carried from the other side of the wall. “Dressed?”

Lance opened the door and looked Axca in the eyes, lingering for a second before brushing passed. There was a gleam in her eyes, a sense of victory put some color in her cheeks. Lance supposed he should thank Axca, as without her he would’ve never realised his life in this house was only sub par. It was untrue and his eyes were closed, shrouded in the veil of what he thought he wanted. The parties he wanted to throw, and the fine clothing he dreamt of wearing.

A boy of twelve with glow in the dark stars on his ceiling and a gap in his front teeth desperately wanted that glory and those riches, but Lance had always been the child who had to touch the stove to believe his mother when she said, “No, Baby, that’s hot.”

As Lance approached the ballroom he could hear the clinking of crystal and the idle chatter of the upper class, a sound to which he has become so accustomed. He saw Lotor standing at the end of the hallway, his tie matching the tie that had been set out for Lance, a dark, royal purple with a gold clip. 

He held out his arm for Lance to take, and leaned in to whisper hot in his ear.

“I expect you to behave. I’m sure you know how sick you’ve been.. Pneumonia, but the doctor’s have finally released you. Of course I was by your side the entire time, Lance, nursing you back to health.”

Lance pulled away, but Lotor caught him on his upper arm and pulled him closer. Lance could feel Lotor’s nails digging into his skin.

“You’re hurting m-” Lance whimpered, but Lotor only snarled in return.

“I don’t know why I spent so much time and money on you, Lance. You’re worthless. And I’ll make you miserable if you disobey, or embarass me. Understood?  
The silence was deafening. 

“Y-Yes-” Lance muttered and Lotor released him. Just like that the air cleared and Lotor held out his arm again, ever the picture of grace.

Lance took the offering and together they walked into the ballroom, announced as the hosts by hushes and the quieting of noise. Lotor walked up to the drink table with Lance at his side and lifted a glass of champagne, held it up to the silent crowd.

“Family, friends and esteemed colleagues. Thank you all for joining me and my husband on a fine night like tonight.”

There was scattered applause, and as Lance scanned the crowd he saw many familiar faces. Including at the exits, Lotor’s generals. Axca smirked at him from one of the balconies. 

“We all are all here to welcome back my lovely husband, Lance Daibazaal, from his terrible bout of pneumonia. Thankfully, he is well, and even stronger than before. Give a hand for Lance..”

Lance felt his palms grow sweaty as the room erupted in applause. There were already people waiting to talk to him, and in that moment Lance knew.. He remembered what was expected of him. It sunk in that his little getaway was over, and his marrige was more constricting now than ever before. Lance felt his chest deflate, thinking about how in the months to come, maybe even years, his life would have no privacy. Always a guard, and maybe if he was unlucky enough, or misbehaved- a General.

Lance clenched his fists as the rest of Lotor's speech came to a close. It was going to be a long night for Lance..

For everyone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stay tuned, starchild, because this is about to ESCALATE ;000 also I REALLY ENJOY all your comments, and am actually about to go respond to all of them now! keep those bad boys coming, they absolutely light up my day!


End file.
